


flower tattoos

by cityscaped (touchofgold)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternative Lifestyles, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchofgold/pseuds/cityscaped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Phil's a florist and Dan's a tattoo artist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flower tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> ironicllyphan.tumblr.com

He never really wanted a tattoo. Not at all. The thought of a needle injecting ink into his skin permanently made his skin crawl. It was something about sharp needles that scared Phil, and also how furious his mother would be when she saw him with a tattoo. But somehow, Phil found himself standing outside the infamous tattoo parlour run by a particularly intimidating man, on a Saturday night after selling flowers. That’s right, Phil was a florist.

It was not too bad of a job, it earned him a decent amount of money so he was able to provide for himself. He wasn’t your typical by the street florists that shove bouquets of flowers into your face, persuading you to spend your money on their almost wilting flowers. Phil was quite the talk amongst the people who bought their flowers from him. He sold the freshest, and most beautiful flowers all grown by himself and packaged them in unique ways: boxed, or in bouquets with fluffy teddy bears attached to them, he did them all.

He even dressed like his flowers, with pastel coloured button ups, and graphic t-shirts with colourful print, Phil was quite a standout. He was friendly to his customers, especially the regulars who bought flowers for their loved ones. Phil greeted everyone with a cheerful smile, striking up a short conversation with his customers who never left without a childhood anecdote.

Which was why it was strange to see him standing outside the dimly lit tattoo parlour next to his own shop, leading into the alley, with broken fluorescent lights that once spelt New Rose. There were greasy pizza boxes stacked precariously next to the doorstep, along with bottles of beer and other sorts of alcohol. Paint chipped from the walls along with yellow stains, which Phil could only assume was piss or vomit residue. Phil gulped, as he was intimidated by the surroundings. ‘The men in there are probably tough guys with a million tattoos over their buff arms. I’ll be eaten alive!’ Phil thought to himself nervously.

“Come on Phil, you can do this.” Phil prepped himself up, pushing his thoughts aside. Inhaling in a deep breath, he pushed down the door knob and entered the tattoo parlour.

Phil was not a rather adventurous person. Don’t take his personality wrong, he was friendly and warm to the prospect of meeting new people but venturing beyond his comfort zones, not as much. Why he was even in this tattoo parlour was a different story. The door swung open to reveal the interior of the tattoo parlour completely different from its dilapidated state outside. Instead of a loud metal band blasting from the speakers, Phil was taken by surprise to hear one of his favourite bands, Muse, playing faintly in the background.

The owner, or the tattoo artist was nowhere to be found in the vicinity of the parlour and was probably in the back room somewhere. Phil took this opportunity to take a look around the parlour. Unlike its chipping exterior paint, the inside seemed to be painted black all around with bright lamps dangling from above, illuminating the parlour. Sepia pictures of different people with tattoos hung from the walls, alongside framed tattoo samples. Phil eyed them carefully, a design already in his mind and carefully scribbled onto a piece of order paper.

There were also vinyl records, and old band posters pasted on the wall, adding a rustic charm to the parlour. Sleek black books with more designs replaced the shelves and tables as knick-knacks and ink bottles and needles were arranged carefully in glass cases. The owner seemed to have an eye for vintage designs.

“Can I help you?” a smooth, masculine voice spoke from behind Phil. Startled, Phil dropped the black book of designs, the book conveniently opening to a page dedicated to topless mermaids. Blushing furiously, Phil picked it up and shut it quickly, tucking it behind him. The owner stood before Phil, with chocolate brown hair with a hint of red dye in his brown fringe, his tattooed arms crossed in front of Phil. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a rose printed on it and with his ear piercing, he looked quite intimidating.

“Umm..” Phil stammered, playing with his fingers, a thing he did when he was nervous. “I came to get a tattoo.” he mumbled.

The owner cocked an eyebrow, staring down at Phil, particularly eyeing his mint pastel button up t-shirt that was a little too snug and skinny jeans. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Phil,” he answered quickly. “Phil Lester.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Phil shook his head. “This was kind of a spontaneous decision.” he began, taking a small step back. “Actually, I feel like this is all too much I don’t know oh God I have no idea why I’m here sorry.” he rambled quickly. The owner chuckled, grabbing Phil’s wrist to stop him from leaving his store. Now that he was here, there was no harm in trying to boost his own business now was it?

“Dan Howell.” the owner introduced. “Welcome to New Rose.”

“I think I’ll be saying goodbye-” Phil began but Dan shushed him.

“You’re not drunk are you?” he questioned. Phil shook his head. “Good.” Dan smiled, dragging Phil to the chair where he would do all of his customers tattoos.

Dan wasn’t cocky, but he would gladly tell you that he is one of the damn finest tattoo artists in London. He was proud of the tattoos he drew on many customers, and most of his customers were often in awe at his handiwork. He would brag that he was fast and good, but that was already pushing it.  
“So, your design flower boy.” Dan requested, holding his palm open for a design. Phil opened his mouth open and quickly shut it, in fear of saying something stupid, so he began fishing around in his jeans for the small crumpled design of a large minimalist flower with multiple petals. Phil couldn’t help but blush a little that Dan had noticed he was a florist. Dan eyed the design carefully under a bright LED desktop light. It was quite intricate and quite symmetrical. “Where do you plan on having it?” Dan questioned.

“Maybe the forearm area?” Phil suggested, taken aback for a moment as he had not decided where his tattoo was going to be. He thought of having a small one on his wrist or maybe one on his arm but he lived by the saying ‘go big or go home’.

“Adventurous for a newbie into the tattoo game.” Dan raised an eyebrow, indirectly asking Phil to rethink his decision.

Phil simply shrugged. “Go big or go home.” he muttered, rubbing his milky bare forearms self consciously. “Also, could you tweak this design slightly and copy it onto my other arm?”

“Not bad.” Dan chuckled, leaning against his leather chair, his hand covering his lips, a smile curving on them. “But you’ll have to come back in a week or so for that. I don’t think you can handle the pain.”

“Oh yeah?” Phil challenged, resting his chin on his hand. “And why do you think that?” At this point, Phil was shamelessly flirting but he couldn’t care less. After all, the reason why he was in this tattoo parlour was to chat up this particularly attractive tattoo artist. Thankfully, Dan seemed to have gotten his message as he copied Phil’s action.

“Yeah.” Dan remarked. “Different people experience different levels of pain when tattoos are done, and I don’t think you want to suffer pain on two arms. Besides, how else are you going to do your job with both your arms crippled?”

“I’m not that weak.” Phil scoffed, adjusting his black fringe above his forehead. “But you’ve got a point, and I will take your advice.”

Dan leaned back into his chair, smiling smugly. “So which arm first?”

“My right.” Phil gestured. “If I get one arm crippled, might as well get my dominant arm crippled right? I can give myself a day off.”

“Cheeky.” Dan retorted, pulling on his gloves and a face mask over his mouth. Dan began to shake a bottle of antiseptic and squirted a generous amount of it onto Phil’s arm. He then started to rub the antiseptic all over his forearm roughly, which resulted in Phil giggling uncontrollably above.

“Stop rubbing it so hard.” Phil giggled.

Dan looked up and cocked an eyebrow. “That’s what she said.” he said, his voice muffled by the face mask. Phil rolled his eyes at Dan’s dirty mind, resting his chin on his left arm to watch Dan work. Dan worked methodically, preparing the needles and ink for the procedure and lining them along the table. Phil stared at the glinting points of the needle, gulping. ‘This is your last chance. You either back out now or just roll with it.’ Phil thought.

“Are you nervous flower boy?” Dan asked concernedly, patting his forearm.

Phil scoffed. “No.” he lied.

“Then why is your arm shaking?” Dan pointed to his vibrating forearm. Phil blushed.

“Alright I’m a smidge nervous.” he admitted, his arm tensing up. “Can you blame me for being nervous?”

Dan shook his head. “Not at all, just relax your arm. I’ll try to make this not hurt as much okay?”

Phil simply nodded and relaxed his arm slowly. Dan gave him a reassuring smile and picked up the first needle. The buzzing hum filled the room, overpowering the song on the speakers. Dan noticed how the buzzing noise made Phil nervous and cranked up the volume, drowning out the buzzing as much as possible.

“Now just relax.” Dan cooed, slowly pressing the needle against Phil’s skin. The moment the needle met his skin, Phil bit back the urge to yelp in pain and shake his arm about. But knowing that he will screw up his tattoo by doing that, Phil did nothing and chewed his lip in pain, grabbing the edge of the seat. Beads of sweat began to dot on his forehead as Dan began his work, staring intensely at his arms.

Dan concentrated hard with the design, only looking up a few times to make sure he was drawing right. He also dabbed Phil with the highest dose of painkillers an average person is allowed, so Phil was in good hands. Phil watched Dan bring his design from a scrap order paper onto his arm, he soon forgot about the pain and found himself staring at his own forearm where a beautiful outline of a flower tattoo was appearing.

Phil also couldn’t help but stare into Dan’s eyes, there was something about the way they looked when he was concentrating that allured Phil. Dan noticed Phil was staring at him, but he was too concentrated in his work to make a sarcastic or cheeky remark to Phil. He was particularly reclusive and quiet, he didn’t really enjoy making small talk with anybody other than his own close knit of friends, so striking up a conversation with Phil isn’t really something he was interested in.

“So how long have you been doing this?” Phil asked out of the blue. Dan bit back a groan. It was a common question asked by many of his customers, and it ticked him off. But when Phil asked it, it somehow sounded like the most original question in the world.

“Four years.” Dan replied, squinting his eye to draw a circle as perfect as possible. “I was an apprentice for two years and opened my own shop a year ago.”

“I see.” Phil nodded. “So what are your passions?”

Dan froze for a second. Nobody had bothered to ever ask him about his passions. Phil was the first and probably, the last person to ever ask him about his passions. “I like drama and acting. Although I don’t do that as often anymore.”

“Why?”

Dan chuckled humorlessly. “It was a silly dream back in middle school to be an actor and act on West End. Then I sort of gave it up when I was in college and took up Law.”

“You’re still a student? Or taking a Masters degree?” Phil asked, interested in Dan’s life.

He shook his head. “Dropped out in the second year. Wasn’t really my thing. You?”

Phil leaned back in his seat, feeling more relaxed than he was at the beginning of the tattoo now that he was having a conversation with Dan. “I graduated with an English and Linguistics degree, along with a Masters in post production and special effects.”

Dan nodded his head, impressed at Phil’s education achievements that sounded so grand unlike his. “Then why are you selling flowers for a living? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m not sure.” Phil shrugged. “I just sort of liked plants from a very young age and somehow decided I was going to sell flowers. Although, I would love to be a weatherman.”

“A weatherman?” Dan scoffed. “Of all the possible careers, a weatherman?”

“Don’t discriminate weathermans!” Phil chided. “It has been my dream job to be a weatherman.”

“Alright, flower boy.” Dan held his free hand up in surrender. The duo fell in a silence after that conversation, with Phil returning to watch Dan and Dan simply, doing his job. The silence they shared was somehow, not as awkward as most people would be in, it felt like a comfortable silence.

After what seemed like hours of pain, in reality it was an hour at maximum, Dan was finished with the tattoo. He was about to quickly cover it with a bandage but Phil refused for a minute, lifting his arm up to stare in awe at the masterpiece Dan has created onto his arm. “It’s beautiful.” Phil gushed, staring at his now pink skin with the bright black inked flowers on it.

“Glad you like it.” Dan smiled back, sitting Phil back down in his seat to wrap his arm up. “Now remember to rub a thin layer of ointment onto the tattoo, to avoid infection. Always wash your hands before you touch your tattoo. Remove the bandage three hours after I wrap this around you.” Dan instructed, wrapping the cloth around Phil’s forearm.

“Wash your tattoo with antibacterial soap, and tonight, wrap your forearm with a cloth to prevent dust and etcetera.” Dan finished. “I’ll hand you a full list of do’s and do not’s and read them carefully.”

“Why not you do that for me?” Phil cocked his eyebrow cheekily. Dan caught a gist of playfulness in his words and shook his head.

“Slow down flower boy.” Dan chuckled, patting his forearm. “Remember to come back in a week for me to check up on your tattoo.”

“Or to check out my-” Phil began but Dan shushed his lips with his index finger.

“A week!” Dan reminded as he guided Phil out of his shop. Phil turned his back to say goodbye to Dan, who leaned against his door frame with a smirk on his lips.

“You bet on it.” Phil winked and walked back to his shop to close up smugly. Now there was an excuse for him to check Dan out again.

-

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back into the writing game? me! this is a rather short au with florist! phil and tattoo artist! dan, inspired by someone from twitter who had this concept in their bio. hope you enjoy, should i do a part two? because this whole fic was written in under an hour, wow.


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